


Two of a Kind

by Dracoravebird



Category: Fallout (Video Games), Fallout 4
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Canon-Typical Violence, Explicit Sexual Content, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, Lots of Sex, M/M, Mild Angst, Romance
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-08-08
Updated: 2018-08-08
Packaged: 2019-06-23 14:55:14
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 12,852
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15608745
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dracoravebird/pseuds/Dracoravebird
Summary: It was odd. Enough so that they sometimes wondered, in silence, how it had come to this. Two men, so similar but so different. And, as the old saying went, opposites attract.





	1. Hard-Won

“And there he is.” Kellogg strode out to the middle of the room, hands up while the Synths around them lowered their weapons. “The most resilient kid in the Commonwealth.”

While wary, Casey lowered his pistol.

“Let’s talk.”

“Considering your little obstacle course, you’re lucky I didn’t come here to shoot you.” He huffed, lowering his pistol. “Why is the institute after me, Kellogg?”

“Kid, I’m just a puppet. Like you. Only, my stage is a little bigger, is all.”

He narrowed his eyes at the merc. “Fine. If you don’t know, then get me inside so I can beat the ever-living fuck out of whoever’s pullin the strings.”

Kellogg scoffed. “You think I still have access? They strung me along like bait.”

“Then tell me how to get in. Tell me anything. Any information you have could be useful, somehow.”

“Kid, you don’t just FIND a way in. Invitation only. They’re a lot deeper underground than a Vault. And I’ve been blacklisted. Even if I actually wanted to, I wouldn’t be able to get you in.”

“Where there’s a will, there’s a way, Kellogg. You of all men should know that.”

Kellogg chuckled, the sound bittersweet… Resigned, much like his expression. “Bound and determined. I’m actually starting to like you.”

“Well, now I feel special.” Casey informed him, with no small amount of sass. “But I’m not leaving until you tell me what you know about the Institute.” 

“Then we’re done here.” Kellogg forced a smirk, the look sending a chill down his spine. “You ready for this?”

The Synths raised their rifles.

Casey ducked behind some of the ruined machinery, fusion blasts peppering the metal with hissing sounds. From the echo in the room, tracking the two Synths’ footsteps was easy. Kellogg was another matter. The slighter man moved in a crouch, turning and firing three shots. One to the Synth’s head, two to the chassis. It collapsed in a ruined heap. He just barely made it back behind cover before the crack of a .44 echoed around him, shooting a hole clean through the metal door behind him. Rushing along the wall, Casey executed the second Synth, leaving the two men alone in the room. Another shot from the merc just barely missed him, earning a yelp from the slighter.

“You don’t have to do this, Kellogg!”

Another shot, close enough to his head that it made his ear ring. Casey just barely got away, keeping low as he ran to better cover.

Idiotic move or not, he set his 10 mm on the floor and removed his jacket. As soon as Kellogg came around the corner, Casey pounced, wrapping the garment around the merc’s wrist and jerking the .44 from his grasp. The gun was kicked off to some dusty corner. A clipped cry left Casey as he was grabbed by the throat and pushed against one of the ruined machines, back colliding with it with a thud. Just as Kellogg’s grip began to tighten, the slighter brought his hand up and slapped his ear. It stunned his foe just long enough for Casey to get a leg between them and shove Kellogg back.

The slighter roundhoused Kellogg, shin colliding hard with the merc’s cheekbone and sending him stumbling a step to the side. When Casey tried for a second kick, Kellogg caught the slighter’s leg beneath his arm and turned, flinging him against another machine with enough force to dint the metallic shell. A fist collided with his face where he sat on the floor. There was a lot of force behind it, enough for him to wonder if it broke anything. Just as Kellogg grabbed the front of his shirt, Casey punched the taller man between the legs. It sent the merc stumbling backwards toward his desk.

“Fuckin asshole!” Casey snarled and ran at him, tackling the taller man into his desk, pressing his forearm to his throat. “Goddammit, would you fuckin listen to me?!”

“Shut the fuck up and fight.” Kellogg growled before grabbing the slighter’s arm and twisting his wrist harshly.

Casey got one punch in before Kellogg reached to the side and grabbed an ink pen. It was aimed for Casey’s neck, but he dodged, the merc stabbing it into his shoulder and Sparta-kicking him backwards. Stumbling away, panting, Casey pulled the ink pen from his flesh with a whimper through grit teeth and tossed it aside. When he looked up, his eyes widened in shock when he saw Kellogg had nicked his knife, Pickman’s Blade glinting in hand.

“That’s… That’s it, then?!” Casey panted, brows furrowed and mouth pouting. “It’s either kill me or use me to commit suicide?!”

“You talk too much.” Kellogg came at him.

Without warning, Casey grabbed the fire-extinguisher beside him and swung. There came a thud when it nailed Kellogg’s hand and flung the knife across the room. But his grip faltered, the extinguisher getting thrown with it. The merc punched him hard across the face. How his cheekbone held up, Casey had no idea, but the blow sent him down on one knee. It was followed by the wet crunch of a knee crashing into his nose, bloodying it and sending him sprawling on his back.

He was about to stomp the slighter man’s head, but even dazed, Casey was faster. He turned aside and brought his legs around under himself, sweeping Kellogg’s legs out from under him. The slighter kicked the merc across the face – mostly out of spite – before stepping away, wiping his nose on the back of his hand. Kellogg got to his feet, nose also bleeding.

“That all you got, sweetheart?!” The merc sneered.

“I’m not gonna kill you!” Casey panted, the two starting to circle one another. “You wanna die?! Don’t use me to do it, you fuckin coward!”

This seemed to snap something in him. Kellogg ran at him with a shout. The punch that came to the side of Casey’s head was a distraction. The slighter gagged when a knee collided with his stomach. Casey doubled over with a wheeze, and then cried out as he was yanked upwards by his hair. He clawed at the merc’s hand as it tipped his head upwards to look at him. Casey was met with a dark, venomous expression.

“NEVER… call me a coward.” Kellogg’s voice was a low growl, and he shoved the slighter backwards.

Casey stumbled but stayed upright. “Then stop acting like one, jacka—” 

CRACK!!! Pain ripped through Casey’s side, breath rushing from him as he was spun to the ground, the concrete floor cold and hard under his chest. Something warm, wet, and coppery bubbled up in the back of his throat. His vision blurred in and out. A figure walked past him to stand in front of Kellogg.

“I see the Director was correct.” The voice was male, but flat. Monotone. “I should thank you for distracting the asset. I suppose a quick death will suffice.”

“If you wanted to offer that, you wouldn’t have shot him in the side. Amateur.” Kellogg’s voice had dropped to a low growl.

Casey’s eyes fluttered, darkness beginning to tint the edges of his vision. His hand shook as he slid it through the puddle of blood beneath him, edging toward Pickman’s Knife where it rested on the floor.

“I didn’t intend a quick end for HIM. He’s proven to be a hazard, and the rest of the project had been fittingly scrapped. It’s best he follow suit.”

“So, what, here to retrieve his corpse?”

“No. After all, his implants aren’t as valuable. No experience or information to save… unlike yours.”

A low hum sounded through the room as the Courser’s bodyguard Gen-2 Synths charged their rifles and aimed Kellogg’s way. With a shout, Casey brought one knee under himself and leapt, tackling the Courser from the side into a space between some machinery. In the background, he heard gunfire and shouting, but tuned it out, ears ringing. He roundhouse kicked the Courser’s rifle from his hands and pulled the butterfly knife from his sleeve, slashing at him, only for the Synth to dart backwards. A hand lunged at him, but he caught it under his arm and hooked a leg behind the Synth’s knee, taking him to the ground.

The Courser kicked the slighter man backwards into a rusted piece of equipment. Casey’s world tilted as he slid down to sit on the floor. By now, the blood loss was too much for adrenaline to overcome. The bang of a .44 sounded, followed by sparks and the crunch of metal, electronic voices sputtering and dying off. The Courser came at Casey, but was grabbed, Kellogg jerking him backwards off the slighter. The merc wrapped an arm round the Courser’s throat, other hand behind the Synth’s head. 

“Should’ve backed the fuck off.” Kellogg grunted, followed by a violent snap of a neck, and the thud of the Courser’s body hitting the floor.

Booted footsteps came towards him, in no real hurry. It was followed by a long pause. Or, maybe it just felt long.

Kellogg stared down at the bleeding heap lying on the concrete. Implants. It puzzled – bothered – him that the kid had implants he himself was unaware of. The merc came to a dark and chilling realization as to just what had went down in the span of the slighter’s life. Now, the coldness towards Casey but fondness towards Shaun made perfect sense. From the start, they had never intended to keep both of them as-is.

“You’d better be worth the trouble…” 

Casey wheezed as he was picked up in strong arms like he weighed nothing. He heard a clatter, and when he was laid down on a cold surface, Casey dazedly realized he was being set down on a desk. When he managed to open his eyes, his vision was a haze of blurred colors and vague outlines. His hands shook, coming up to try and push the figure away, but the smell of cigars and leather reminded Casey that he wasn’t down in a dark lab, but in a ruined pre-war building, and the man above him was anything but a doctor.

“Here.” Kellogg placed a gloved hand at the younger man’s mouth. “Bite.”

Rasping, trying not to choke, Casey obeyed. When he felt a needle being jabbed into his side, he shrieked, arching his back, one hand out and grabbing the merc’s sleeve while his teeth sank into the leather-clad hand in his mouth. As flesh and bone knit back together and slid back into place, he was turned onto his uninjured side, allowing him to retch. He saw red. Red dribbling to the concrete floor from his mouth.

Though he felt hands push his shirt up while holding him steady, Casey didn’t have the state of mind to stop it, weakly gripping the merc’s wrist as he felt the edge of the desk near him. Kellogg felt a scar beneath his palm. One too clean to be accidental or made in a fight.

The slighter gagged, but no more blood came up, whether from his lung or otherwise. He was laid out on his back. That was the last thing he registered before darkness overtook him. Kellogg was only surprised the slighter man hadn’t passed out sooner, and carried him back to the bedroom, laying him out on the soft but musty covers.

Now, without the fighting or squirming, Kellogg was able to get a better look. The kid had a scar on his lower stomach, from his navel down to disappear beneath his belt line. Reaching beneath the slighter’s back, he felt a scar running along the lower portion of his spine. Pushing sleeves up showed him the injection marks along his arms. A brush of a hand along a leg let him feel more of them.

A dark frown crossed Kellogg’s features. If the kid didn’t want revenge… “Why the hell are you here?”

\---------

Sunlights, beer, leather, and gunpowder. Plus, something unique each person had to them. This smell, however briefly Casey had met it, was one he recognized. He was lying on something soft. A bed. And after a sluggish moment, he realized he was in Kellogg’s bed. Casey’s skin felt sticky and tacky. Clammy. A shudder worked its way through him. It took a moment for his eyes to focus when he opened them. Rather than dead as he would have expected, he was very much alive… and, surprisingly, unrestrained.

“You finally awake?” A deep, rough voice rumbled nearby.

Casey’s head lolled to the side, seeing Kellogg seated in a chair beside the bed. “Barely…”

“Good. Cause I think you owe me some answers.”

“Seriously…? Why the fuck do you think I came to find y—Ah!” The younger man cried out as he was suddenly jerked upright by the front of his shirt and jacket.

“He said you had implants. Explain.”

He took a shuddering breath, one hand braced on the desk and the other coming up to the other’s strong wrist. Despite his reservations on discussing his past, Casey relented under that cold, harsh gaze as it remained focused sharply upon him.

“I-I don’t know. I don’t remember much from wherever they took me after you wandered off. Drugs. But I didn’t know they… that they had stuck anything in me. I… I always thought the surgery bit was a nightmare.”

Kellogg’s grip loosened a bit. Being doped up 24/7 would explain the lack of memory on the issue. But to leave him awake when cutting the guy open… It didn’t surprise him, but the idea pissed him off to some extent.

“I… I guess I got my answers, after all.” A nervous laugh bubbled in Casey’s chest. “Whatever he was aiming for, I think he missed. It… It’d hurt more, if he didn’t, right?”

Those hands left his front, reaching up to cup either side of his face. Part of him guessed he should’ve been afraid since this man could easily snap his neck like the Courser’s, but he didn’t have the energy. Instead, he focused on the feeling of rough thumbs brushing his cheekbones. Of warm skin and leather on his cheeks. Casey winced at the lingering pain in his side. The merc’s hands were soothing against his clammy flesh. Only then did he realize, under those calloused fingertips, that he was chilled from blood-loss.

“Tell me what they did. All of it.”

Looking up, he saw the mercenary’s expression was still hard, but not for the same reasons. It was different than before.

“Don’t make me ask again.” Kellogg growled, glaring.

He relented, gaze falling. “After you dropped me off, they took me underground. To a lab. They kept me there for ten years or so. I-I tried to escape, so, they froze me in a box. Different from 111, but not far off.

“I got looked at by a doctor in Diamond City. He said I had scars from… from blood transfusions and getting bone marrow taken out. And that I was missing my tonsils and appendix. But I… I don’t remember any of it.

“I don’t know how long I was under, after that. I managed to escape when there was a glitch in the system. Or an attack on the compound, or something. There were explosions…

“I just… I ran and never went back. And they chased me. I came here hoping you knew something… anything… like who I could kill to get them off my back.”

There was a long span of tense silence between them. That wasn’t the story he had expected to hear, and it stirred… SOMETHING in him. Something primal, hot, and sticky like what he had felt during that fight. Kellogg released the slighter man and sat down beside him, on the edge of the bed. Casey didn’t know what was going through his head. Part of him didn’t want to. Between the deactivated security system, the dead Courser, the ruined Synths, the entire compound was deathly silent.

“Are you gonna kill me, then?” Casey muttered on a shaking breath.

“You talk too much.” Kellogg muttered, drawing a cigar from inside his jacket and patting himself down for a light.

With a roll of his eyes, Casey pulled a gold-plated flip lighter from his cargo shorts pocket and handed it to the merc beside him. It earned him a grunt, and it was no surprise when the merc refused to hand it back, instead pocketing it. He took a long drag on the cigar, Casey wrinkling his nose briefly. The smell of smoke was better than cleaning solvents, anyways.

“What do you want me to say?” Kellogg muttered, plumes of smoke rising from his mouth.

“Dunno.” He shrugged, wincing at the soreness in his body.

After a brief pause, he looked over at him. “We’re both in the same boat. It’s been a while since I could say that about anyone.”

“So, what does that mean?”

Kellogg took another long drag. “It means I’ve spent too much time workin for a private client. Maybe I should start freelancing again.”

“Great. Starting fee…?”

“You watch my back, I’ll watch yours.”

“And… can I trust you?” Casey questioned, arching a brow at him.

“I wouldn’t.”

“At least you’re honest.” He sighed, rubbing his bruised cheek with a wince. “This’ll be fun to explain to everyone else. Joy.”

“Made some friends in high places?” Kellogg muttered, standing and straightening his jacket.

“And low places. Some of which aren’t very fond of you. But if I vouch for you, we should be fine… I hope.”

\---------


	2. Interlude

“So, lemme get this straight…” Deacon rubbed his brow, other hand on his hip. “He was working with the Institute so he could get a leg up on other mercs, and was led to believe they had something on him, so he kept working for them.”

“Yep.” Casey took a swig of his Nuka-Cola where he sat in the armchair at Nick’s desk.

“And they put cybernetics in you, too, as an experiment.”

“As far as I can tell, yeah. Can’t think of any other reason.”

“And that’s why Coursers have been tryin to kill you AND him. To tie up loose ends.”

“Pretty much.” Casey shrugged.

Nick frowned, taking a drag on a cigarette held in his skeletal hand. “Not surprising. Kellogg isn’t the sort to be taken alive. Not unless he had a backup plan behind it.”

“Look, Fixer,” Deacon sat on the corner of the desk and ignored the Detective’s disapproving expression, “you realize the guy is probably gonna use you as a bargaining chip.”

“Thank you, Dee.” Casey drawled with a flat look. “Tell me something I DON’T know.”

“Do you trust him?” Nick questioned.

“He did save my life. So… Yeah. For now. I trust him more than Danse, if that counts for anything.”

“Danse is Brotherhood, so I believe it.” Deacon glanced at Nick and got the hint, standing.

“Just watch your back around him, kid.” Nick’s expression was a mixture of concern and something unreadable that Casey didn’t catch.

Casey nodded. “I plan to.”

\---------

From the look on Kellogg’s face as they entered Sanctuary, Casey assumed the merc was surprised at how much it had changed. Preston had gotten all the new additions in, the former ghost-town now resembling a real home. It was rivalled only by Diamond City and Starlight Drive In, in size. Of course, there were no real walls, nor bus-barricade, but there was a lot of security. Enough so that someone would be stupid to attack.

“I’m almost impressed.” Kellogg mused.

“Thanks, I guess.” Casey glanced at him as they strode down the main street. “Honestly, all I handle is city planning. It just gets built up more every time I leave.”

A few of the settlers they passed by murmured nervously.

“I… uh… I have food at my place if you wanna skip eating at the inn.”

“Fine by me.”

“Here. My house is just across from the workshop.”

“The house with the Minutemen flag and the ‘Restricted Area’ sign?”

“Yeah.” Casey rubbed his arm anxiously. “People kept sleeping on my bed and the sofa, so I had that sign put up.”

He smirked.

“It’s my house! Why is that funny?”

“Nothin.”

As they neared the house, a dog poked its head out the door. As soon as it saw them, it barked and ran up, tail wagging so hard that the hound was wagging his whole ass. Casey knelt on the sidewalk, letting Dogmeat run up to him. The dog nearly pushed him over in his excitement, licking his face and jumping on him. There was a thick, spiked collar round the dog’s neck, as well as a blue bandanna made of ballistic fiber, much as the dog’s army-green vest was. He’d be protected, if a fight came around.

“I missed you, too, boy.” Casey laughed, standing.

Satisfied, Dogmeat looked to Kellogg. It was a surprise when the dog didn’t growl or get upset – animals tended to do that around him. Rather, he seemed curious, tail wagging as he crept closer and sniffed first at the man’s leg, and then his hand, Dogmeat’s tail wagging slowly. Kellogg rolled his eyes, but gave the hound a scratch behind the ears, anyways. It wasn’t often he ran into a mutt NOT trying to tear his hand off.

“Guess he likes you. He isn’t usually that good with new people.” Casey chuckled, leading the way onwards and inside. “Uh… Come on in, I guess.”

“Did all the houses back then look the same?” Kellogg drawled, glancing around.

“No, not all houses. But Sanctuary Hills was a government housing project for military families. I assume Vault-Tech was partly responsible. And, of course, the government took the cheapest route with cookie-cutter type houses like this.”

“Military. Which parent?” He watched the slighter remove his backpack and set it on the counter.

“Dad. It’s why he was never around. Mom was a lawyer. To be honest, they got Codsworth because neither of them had the time or interest to raise me. Or Shaun. That robot is the closest thing I have to a father.”

“Looks like he was a good influence.”

Casey watched the merc take stock of his surroundings. The house had been fixed up. Two sofas in the living area with a coffee table between them, on which rested a chess board and an empty vase resting on a dark rug with circle designs. Two barstools rested before the counter, and to the side was a square table with four plain chairs. There was a cooking stove, and the fridge lacked a door – not that it needed one, considering. He saw a salt shaker and pepper grinder on the counter by the sink, next to a plastic bread box. A magazine rack sat by the kitchen door, stocked full of all the surviving magazines Casey had found thus far. On the shelves by the door rested numerous baubles and trinkets. A crystal liquor decanter, cigar box, patrolman sunglasses, toy Nuka-Cola truck, framed picture…

“Looks like you’re a bit of a packrat.” Kellogg walked up to the counter, seating himself on one of the barstools.

“It’s the little things that make it feel like home.” Casey blushed slightly, stepping out the kitchen door long enough to grab some firewood for the stove. “There’s a guest room, or you can have the bed in my room. I have a sofa in there I usually sleep on.”

Wordlessly, he watched the younger man.

“I’ll be right back. I need to go grab some suff.”

He left briefly, running to the inn to buy a couple steaks and some produce. In his absence, Kellogg turned in his seat to peer out the living room window. Across the way was the workshop. Armor bench, weapon bench, and the like, as well as a power-armor rig with a T-45 set. The chassis and helmet were painted in minutemen blue with their emblem on the chest, while the limbs were painted in aqua-camo. On the wall beside it was a minigun.

When Casey returned, he filled a pot with water, cutting the corn off the cob, dicing some tatos, and throwing both in the pot with some razorgrain.

“How do you like your steak?” Casey dusted the meat with some seasoning he had found in the Federal Ration Stockpile.

“Bloody.” Kellogg informed him, propping his head in hand.

“Um… Why are you staring at me?”

“Just surprised. I shot your mother, helped kidnap you and your brother, almost killed you… and you’re making me dinner. It just makes me think you’re easy.”

His cheeks grew dark, gaze darting to the side. “Like I said. She wasn’t much of a mother. And you saved my life at Ft. Hagen. So, I guess that makes us… even?”

“Deal.”

\---------

The kid was smarter than first appearances. Slept with his feet facing the door so he could spot an intruder, if any.

Casey’s bedroom was the room opposite of the one facing the street. The bed was in the corner by the closet with a wooden crate beside it as a nightstand, followed by a wooden desk against the wall, and the black sofa in the other corner. There was a wooden filing cabinet in the alcove by the window, and a painting on the wall. A painting of water lilies, under which were two wooden shelves.

Dogmeat was laying on a sleeping bag under the shelves. Sleeping peacefully, curled up with a teddy bear. The robot came by to check in on the group before returning to the living room. In silence, Kellogg sat up, gazing across the room to where Casey laid on the sofa. Face relaxed. Breaths even. Curled up with his head on a relatively clean pillow. Hair a mess, as usual.

The bed smelt like him. Hell, the whole lived-in little house did. Like wild herbs, motor oil, open air, and ozone. Kellogg couldn’t get it out of his head even if he wanted to. The merc tensed as the general turned over to face the back of the sofa, long legs pressed together, giving him a nice view of a denim-clad ass. Growling under his breath, Kellogg laid back down, willing himself to get some sleep and ignore the sound of the night officers on patrol, outside.

Sanctuary was well-defended. Even so, he had no intention of being caught off-guard.

\---------

“Well… Looks like they’re getting along civilly, at least.” Casey sighed where he sat with Hancock on one of the Old State House’s sofas, the detective and merc in the other room across the stairwell.

“Surprising, isn’t it?” Hancock snickered. “Wanted to offer you a job, while you’re here. If you’re up for it.”

“Sure. I could use something to do.”

“Talk to Bobbi No-Nose. She’s cookin up some kinda scheme, probably something to do with me. I need you to make sure she doesn’t succeed. And I don’t care how.”

“Sure.”

He gazed in the two’s direction. “I think Nicky’s just bein protective.”

“Makes sense.” Casey mused with a shrug, grabbing the Nuka-Cola he was drinking. “He did try to kill me before saving my life.”

“No, no. Not because of that.” Hancock barked out a rough laugh and flashed his friend a cheeky grin. “I mean… you’ve seen the way Kellogg stares at your ass, right?”

The slighter man sputtered and coughed, nearly inhaling his soda.

“Not that I blame him. It is a fine ass.”

“John!” Casey slapped his arm lightly.

“Just sayin, Sunshine.” Hancock snickered, readjusting his tricorn.

“What’s your beef with Bobbi, now that you almost killed me?”

“She’s plannin somethin, and I don’t know what. Whatever scheme she’s got goin, I want you to sabotage it. You don’t have to kill her. But…” The mayor shrugged and took a swig of his own cola. “Nice change of subject.”

“Fuck you.”

“Pretty sure you’d rather be fuckin—”

Casey shoved the tip of the Ghoul’s hat down in his face, earning a laugh from him as the slighter bit his lower lip to stifle a grin. Across the way, Nick and Kellogg watched, the pair sharing a light as the detective sparked a cigarette, and the mercenary lit a cigar, pausing to stare down at the gold flip-lighter before slipping it back into his jacket’s inner pocket.

“Kid likes you.” Nick finally mused after the long non-conversation between them.

Kellogg took a drag on his cigar with a cocked brow. “And that means what, to me?”

“I don’t know. Yet. He has good instincts. Doesn’t trust easy. Can’t imagine what he sees in you. But whatever it is, he thinks its worth keepin you around.”

He grunted, but offered no real reply.

“I’m more interested in why YOU’RE still around.”

There was a long pause before Kellogg gazed the slighter’s way, watching him laugh, joke, and talk with the mayor. Nick waited, imagining that the mercenary was gathering his thoughts, or finding the right words. Neither were likely very easy for him, given the subject and recent events.

“When we were busy beatin the tar out of each other in Hagen… that was the first time in years that I’ve felt anything close to alive. Then, he gets shot, and tackles the Courser…” Kellogg shifted his weight from foot to foot. “It was an amazing display, Nicky.”

“I believe it.” Nick muttered, with notably less infatuation. “At least I know he can kick your ass if you try anything.”

With a roll of his eyes, he cast a mild glare at the detective.

\---------


	3. Crabby Queen

“Yeah. I think we can do this.” Casey nodded where he and Preston stood outside the workshop. “Let us get kitted out and we’ll head over, with you.”

Preston nodded, his gaze flicking to the merc emerging from the general’s house with a coffee mug in hand. Casey turned to follow his gaze, ignoring it as the field commander strode off a short distance to talk to Sturges, whom was in charge of security when they were both away. The general stepped closer, hands in his jacket pockets.

“Morning.” He greeted, tone even. “Get any sleep?”

“Not much, but enough.” Kellogg muttered. “Your robot made tea.”

“Yeah. A friend taught me the recipe and I taught it to Codsworth. Good stuff. … Anyways, Preston thinks we should make a move on the Castle. The old HQ. Between the Institute and the Brotherhood, we’re gonna need someplace more fortified so they don’t fire on civilians just to kill me.”'

“I’m surprised they didn’t shoot you when you stood ‘em up.”

“Oh, they probably wanted to, even if Maxson wouldn’t let them. … Thank god Dez didn’t actually need me on the inside.”

Kellogg scoffed quietly and sipped at the hot cup of tea. After a moment, he offered it to Casey, whom took a sip of it without taking it from the mercenary’s hand. When Casey peered up at the taller man through dark lashes, he felt his cheeks heat, noting how Kellogg was watching him.

“Thanks for that.” Casey wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, and drew a blue bandanna from his jacket pocket. “Here. I give all my agents one of these. It’ll keep other Minutemen from shooting you by mistake.”

The merc looked down at it for a long moment before setting the coffee mug down on the weapon workbench and grabbed the cloth, tying it to rest loosely round his neck. “At least it’s not a dumb hat. Where do you get all the bandannas?”

“I found a couple crates at a Back Street Apparel.” He gave a boyish giggle, and looked over toward the commander. “Preston! We should bring Big Blue! We might need the firepower!”

Preston nodded, moving to activate the power-armor’s Sentinel AI unit. The armor thrummed to life, coming online and, on command, grabbing and loading the minigun.

“In the meantime,” Casey tapped the merc on the arm and motioned for him to follow, “you’ll probably need more firepower than your pistol. I have a private armory, over here. Behind the police station.”

It was a bunker. An old bunker, with a working safe. Casey had reinforced the locks, and such. Took the bed out, put more storage and shelving in. There were boxes for ammo, mines, grenades, and such. He always kept it well-stocked, and this was no exception.

Kellogg let out a low whistle at all the firepower. “I hesitate to ask where you got all this.”

“I like to keep areas around my settlements clear of Raiders and Gunners.” Casey mused, glancing around. “Take your pick. Whatever suits your fancy.”

He took up a combat rifle, looking it over. “You mod all this yourself?” 

“Yeah. With some help, now and then.”

\---------

That sound… A wail deep and loud, able to be felt in the ribs, echoed all around them. Kellogg turned just as he finished killing the mirelurk in front of him. Casey and Preston were fighting off a hoard of hatchings as the water began to dance… and part.

“Kid! Get the fuck out of there!” Kellogg shouted, hurriedly reloading. “Move!”

Panting, Casey turned in time for a shadow to rise from the water. He shoved Preston backwards, a colossal claw coming down on the ground between them with a spray of dirt and muck. He ducked, barely missing the claw that swept past him, Casey nearly stumbling as he fled. Everyone was firing frantically at the beast from all directions. One woman went flying when it backhanded her, her corpse slamming into the unforgiving stone wall. Another man was cut clean in half by a mighty pincer. Big Blue rushed the creature in an effort to protect his fellows, but the AI power-armor was flung aside into a wall. The words “emergency shutdown” sputtered from his vocalizer.

“Blue!” Casey turned, raising his SMG.

“Forget the robot and shoot, dammit!” Kellogg shouted at him.

The mirelurk queen hissed, turning to face the mercenary. It rushed at him, claws at the ready. Kellogg retreated into the building, a claw lunging through the doorway after him, snapping and barely missing his middle as he pressed his back to the wall. There came the Pap!, Pap!, Pap! of a combat rifle, sparks flying off its chitin plating. A couple bullets made it through, opaque cyan blood pattering against the soil. Shrieking, it withdrew, turning on the source of the gunfire.

On the wall, Kellogg spied a crudely painted sign that read “<— Armory” in blue letters. The mercenary rushed for it while the monster was distracted. The doors hung open listlessly, and as soon as he crossed through them, he saw a missile launcher and a single round for it.

“Keep firing!” Casey yelled to the others, frantically trying to get Blue restarted as he knelt fiddling with his controls.

There came a sudden whoosh and a fiery explosion… followed by a deafening scream. The missile sent one of the queen’s main pincers flying, and she wheeled on Kellogg. In a panic, Casey activated the power-armor’s manual release. As any other suit of power-armor would, it encased him in a protective metal shell. He got to his feet without hesitation, snatching up the minigun.

For his part, Kellogg had scrambled inside, backed into a stone corner, shotgun raised and firing at the mirelurk queen. The only thing it seemed to do was piss it off. Not nearly as much as the sudden volley of minigun-fire did. Sparks flew as bullets collided with the beast’s chitin, even piercing through it with a spray of teal blood. The mirelurk queen shrieked, nearly falling to one side. It turned towards the threat, attempting to charge through the hail of bullets in a fit of rage, but only taking more damage for it.

“Fuck you, overgrown shrimp!” Casey shouted, voice a bit distorted from the armor’s helmet.

Another shriek. Kellogg skidded to a stop when he ran back outside. He saw the power-armor being picked up and grasped by jagged sawlike mouthparts. Casey exited the armor out the back, landing sprawled out with a wheeze. Even so, he managed to scramble up and run before turning and chucking a grenade.

The explosion that followed did nothing to the power-armor. But it landed right in the queen’s mouth. There came a crunching, wet explosion and an unearthly scream. A mixture of opaque blue and milky, moss green flew every which way, painting the area with the stench of iodine and mud. What remained of the corpse dropped the power-armor and stumbled backwards before falling back into the bay with an enormous splash.

After the thunder came a silence. No cheering. No hollering. Only people catching their breath before rushing to the wounded. Kellogg glanced around the field as he went to his companion.

“I don’t say this often. But good work.” The mercenary nodded to him.

“You’re not so bad yourself.” Casey panted, hands on his hips a moment before one came up and pushed his bangs from his face, his gaze sweeping across the field. “H-How many did we…?”

“Three casualties. A few more injured. Not counting the robot.”

“BB, I can fix. But this… this…”

“It could’ve been a lot worse.”

“I… I feel like I’m gonna be sick.” Casey mumbled, face going pale.

“Go take a walk. Maybe find a bucket. Have a seat.” Kellogg pointed to the stone gateway closest to them. “We’ll handle the mop-up.”

“Are you sure?”

He pushed the slighter lightly toward the doorway. “Go.”

With some reluctance, Casey moved off on his own, disappearing into the fort.

Preston approached the Mercenary. “Is the general doing alright?”

“Better than some people I’ve seen. He always like this?”

“No. Only with people he’s met. Fellow Minutemen, settlers, and that. But when he’s shooting Raiders, Coursers, ferals… He’s usually fine after a few minutes.” Preston glanced around. “But seein Morrow and Lucas… I can’t imagine that was easy for anyone.”

Kellogg grunted in the back of his throat. “First time I’ve seen somethin like that.”

He took stock of the battlefield, seeing the launcher where it had been dropped. “I’m glad you’re on our side.”

“I’m not on anyone’s ‘side.’ He hired me.” He patted down his jacket for a smoke, relieved to find the cigars had come out unscathed.

“Either way.”

\---------

After checking in with the settlements and following along with Bobbi’s scam, Casey was ready to make his move. Ready to toss her to the wolves. He didn’t like the woman. Didn’t trust her. The fact one of his closest friends didn’t like or trust her, either, only tilted his favor further away from her. When they emerged from the dark, dusty tunnels into crisp midday air, the only one surprised at the welcoming committee was Bobbi.

“And you just broke into Hancock’s stash.” Fahrenheit informed the group. “I’m not surprised.”

Bobbi leaned back a bit to whisper to Casey. “We can take ‘em.”

“We’re not going to.” Casey folded his arms loosely. “My plan was to toss you to the Diamond City guards and slip away. If I knew we’d end up here, I would’ve blown up the damn eye-bot.”

There was a tense moment before she grabbed the slighter man and held her pistol to his temple. Casey’s hands went up, his feet stumbling as she shuffled back towards the tunnel. The guard beside Fahrenheit spun up his minigun, but she held a hand up for him to hold his fire.

“Here’s the deal, ginger.” Bobbi sneered, glaring at Hancock’s right-hand girl. “I’m walkin out of here. Or he dies.”

“I suggest you not.” Casey told her and winced as the pistol pressed closer against his skin. “Alright, well… I warned you.”

There came a click beside them and Bobbi froze. From the corner of her eye, she saw the barrel of a .44 to her head, cocked and ready.

“You think I won’t?” Bobbi leered at the mercenary.

Kellogg’s expression was blank, but gaze hard. “You let him go, I give you a head-start. You shoot him, and I’ll take my sweet time. Your choice, toots.”

The Ghoul swallowed thickly. Several seconds ticked by, the mercenary pushing her bangs from her face with the muzzle of his gun. Finally, she pointed her pistol upwards and backed away. However, as soon as she turned and made a break for it, Kellogg fired, the woman’s head popping like a dropped watermelon and splattering the dirt in crimson.

“You alright, little rook?” Fahrenheit questioned.

“Y-Yeah. I’m good.” Casey took in a shaking breath. “Can Mel go? He wasn’t in on it.”

“If you say. Very well.”

Mel glanced around before making himself scarce, rushing back through the tunnel towards Goodneighbor. For their part, Kellogg and Casey left through the warehouse doors, walking out into the afternoon sun.

“Thanks for that.” Casey looked over at him.

“Rule number two: Don’t give away information for nothing. Especially not your intentions.” Kellogg told the slighter with a frown.

“I didn’t think she’d—”

He grabbed the slighter’s shoulder, stopping him and turning so they faced one another. “And what do you think rule number three is?”

“Uh… Trust your instincts…?”

“No. Don’t make assumptions about someone unless you KNOW them. Intimately.”

“Are these rules written down somewhere?” Casey drawled. “Should I take notes?”

Kellogg scoffed, the pair continuing on their way. “No. And they’re not even in order. I’m working with it as we go.”

“Fair enough.”

\---------


	4. Rainy Days

“Remind me just WHY we’re out here.” Kellogg grumbled, though he followed the slighter man.

“Exploring. Looking for supplies. Who knows?” Casey shrugged, glancing back at him, one hand adjusting the knit grey hat he had found and decided to wear, since it was clean.

He rolled his eyes.

The two of them were trekking through the swath of cityscape south of Diamond City. God only knew why. Something about waiting for Piper or her boyfriend, Deacon, to come through on their contacts with whatever information they could get. Kellogg didn’t like the idea, of course. Asking around in itself tended to draw attention. Their trip only halted when a low rumble sounded, echoing through the streets. The merc halted, and stopped his companion by the arm so he could glance around and gage the air.

“What is it?” Casey whispered, fearing several of the worst ideas. “Is it close?”

“Radstorm. And yes.” Kellogg frowned. “We should find someplace to hunker down for a while.”

“Um…” He glanced around. “We could make it back to—”

“No time.” The merc grabbed his companion’s arm and dragged him around, scanning the streets before spotting possible refuge.

Flecks of wet, almost slushy snow were already starting to fall by the time they got inside and closed the door, Kellogg leaning his weight into it as the wind began to pick up to a howl.

“Hand me the chair over there.”

Casey complied, flinching at the sound of thunder, and the crackle from his Pip-Boy where it rested in his backpack. He watched, eyes wide as Kellogg wedged the door closed with the old chair.

“There. Should hold. Unless a hunk of debris flies into it.”

Another crack of thunder, this one louder than the previous, made Casey yelp softly, though he covered his mouth with his hand. Both of them gazed about in unison. They were in a lobby, a few skeletons laying strewn over aged furniture and one slumped over the front desk, the terminal ruined. Very little light made it through the windows, though vivid flashes could be seen.

“How did you…?” Casey trailed off.

“Practice.” Kellogg drew his .44 and took a look around, clearing the room. “Come on. We should move further in. … What the hell is this place?”

He followed him, giving a cute little sneeze at the dust falling around them. “Looks like a hotel. Or an apartment building.”

“A what?”

“An apartment building. It’s… like a bunch of house-sized rooms. And each family or person pays rent, or owns their space. The population used to be… a problem.”

“Enough that you’d live together like a can of sardines?”

Casey frowned. “It wasn’t that bad. And I’d save THAT comparison for less savory parts of history.”

“Like what?”

“Ones I read about in school. It’s… It’s not important, right now. And it’s depressing.”

Kellogg let the issue drop.

The pair moved deeper into the building, eventually coming to a ground-floor lounge framed by a pair of broken elevators. The crackling of the radiation had died down, and the thunder was muffled. While Kellogg was content to have a seat on a sofa, propping his feet on a dusty old coffee table, Casey had a look around the room.

In silence, the merc merely watched. Casey was humming a tune to himself, picking up a vase that had been saved by an armchair, dusting it off to reveal a dragon painted in blue against a pale background. Another cute little sneeze echoed through the space around them, Casey muttering an “excuse me” under his breath as he wiped his nose on the back of his sleeve. Still humming, he set the vase down on a coffee table, in the center, as if he was arranging the damn place again. For now, the mercenary was too intrigued to say anything. The slighter man rummaged through the cabinets about the room, looking for anything of use and finding a magazine. An edition of Henhouse magazine, no less. 

Casey blushed and threw it frisbee-style to the merc. “Looks like something you might enjoy.”

“You’d be wrong.” Kellogg chuckled, tossing it onto the table at his feet.

“No?” He busied himself with searching through another drawer.

“I’m a greedy man, sweetheart. I don’t like to share. Especially not with the whole damn world.” He scoffed, sitting back and clasping his hands behind his head. “I’ve never really been into old pre-war nude mags.”

“Mm. Well… Hancock’ll probably get a kick out of it.”

“Like I said. You’re a packrat.”

“Can people afford not to be?” He arched a brow the taller man’s way. “Especially nowadays?”

“You talk like you’re actually old.” Kellogg eyed him watching intently.

“I’m technically older than you, sonny boy.” The slighter man reminded him, in his best Sean Connery voice.

“Ugh…” A disgruntled look crossed his face. “Don’t do that.”

A laugh bubbled up in Casey’s chest, and he nodded.

\---------

The two made it back to Diamond City in good time. Casey didn’t intend to stay, of course. Rain was drizzling down, thankfully just a regular storm this time. No ash, snow, or rads. Just a storm. Even so, it was cold.

“Want noodles? I’ll buy.” Casey offered as they descended the steps, toward the market.

“As long as it’s warm and I can get a beer with it, fine.” Kellogg huffed, not liking the idea of dealing with Takahashi.

“Nan-i shimasho ka?” The robot questioned.

* “Kon’nichiwa.” Casey greeted in a chipper tone as the pair sat at the bar. “Onegaishimasu, ni-nūdorubouru.”

Without hesitation, the protectron chef prepared two pristine bowls of noodles and set them in front of his customers. More pristine than usual, as if in appreciation.

“Arigatō, tomodachi.”

“You speak that?” Kellogg arched a brow at him.

“Yeah. My grandma taught me. I learned it not long after I started learning English. My grammar sucks, though.”

“Nan-i shimasho ka?” Takahashi said, again.

“Oh. Well, I guess it’s not that bad, then.”

Kellogg stared a moment at his companion.

It was Casey’s turn to smirk, then. “Anata wa konran suruto kawaīdesu.”

Takahashi pointed his ladel at the slighter man accusingly. “Nan-i shimasho ka?”

“Right. Message received.” The slighter blushed, grabbing a fork and spoon.

Kellogg pressed his hands against the bowl of soup before him to warm his hands. “Don’t you get tired of eating the same thing?”

“I’ve gone to the Dugout Inn before, and… well… I don’t much care for it.”

“Why? Food’s not THAT bad.”

“No, but guys pawing at my ass without my permission IS that bad. Part of the reason I bunk with Piper when I’m here.”

There came a pause, however brief. “You could bunk with me.”

“What, and take the sleeping bag? Please.”

“I never said that.”

“Um…” Casey blushed and looked away. “Thanks. I’ll… Yeah.”

The pair ate in silence, paying and leaving for Kellogg’s house. Casey may have only been there once, but it was… familiar. Known to him, and his companion, of course. The air smelt familiar. Like him. It made a relieved little sigh pass the slighter man’s lips, ending the tune he had again been keeping to himself.

“What song is that? The one you keep humming?” Kellogg questioned, kicking the door of his house closed behind him. “I’ve never heard it.”

“It’s from a band that popped up when I was a kid. I was a big fan.” Casey pulled his damp jacket off and draped it on a jut of metal on the wall. “They were called ‘Gorillaz.’ It was spelt with a Z instead of an S.”

“Why?”

“Dunno, but…” He tapped his hand against his thigh and tapped one foot.

***  
You've got to press it on you  
You just think it  
That's what you do baby  
Hold it down dare

Jump with them all and move it  
Jump back and forth  
And feel like you were dare yourself  
To work it out  
***

When he turned, he saw Kellogg’s brows were arched and furrowed, eyes a bit wide, a puzzled expression on his face. For all his blushing and shyness, Casey had a voice fit for Diamond City Radio. Certainly more than SOME of the songs that had made it on there.

Casey let out a nervous laugh.

“I didn’t say anything.” Kellogg pulled his own jacket off and tossed it across a vacant chair.

“Sorry. Just… my dad would always get pissed. I wanted to be a singer, y’know. But he always said singin was for girls.”

“I’d be more concerned about how it’d pay for anything.” Moving to the hidden room, he grabbed a couple beers, handing one to his guest.

“People would buy holodisks, signed posters, go to concerts… A really good singer could make MILLIONS of dollars. Er… billions of caps. If you could sing good or act good, you didn’t have to work a day in your life.”

“And that’s something you wanted?” The merc cracked the cap off his beer on the edge of his desk. “To just sit there and look pretty?” 

“Well, back then it was nice. Better than alternatives. But now? Even if I could… I wouldn’t. I like going out. Exploring. Running the Minutemen. That’s the good thing about singing. I can do it in my spare time, or anytime.”

He glanced at the slighter before setting his beer down long enough to open the other’s.

“Thanks.” Casey murmured, a light blush dusting his cheeks. “I can stop, if it bothers you.”

“I don’t mind. Hell, I’d enjoy the actual singin more than the radio or you humming.”

“Oh. Well… Okay.” He shivered, glancing around the space. “I tried to leave things where I found them.”

“I’m surprised you didn’t raid the place for anything you could scrap.” Kellogg mused, sitting down at his desk.

“Har, har. Jerk.” Another shiver had him hugging himself.

“Cold?”

“Yeah. A little. Maybe some of the rain made it through my jacket.”

“Drink. The alcohol will make you feel warmer.” Kellogg sat back in his seat, propping a foot on the corner of his desk. “Then, we can get some sleep.”

“I didn’t see any blankets when I was here last time.”

“Don’t have any.”

“And where did the kid you were with sleep?”

“In the sleeping bag. On the bed. I stayed down here, in a chair.” The merc took a swig of his Gwinnet Stout.

Casey pouted, rubbing his arm, glancing aside. “Um… Well… Seeing as that’s probably uncomfortable, and it’s either warmth or a bed, maybe we could… unzip the sleeping bag and use it as a blanket?”

“And share the bed?” He cast the slighter man a flat look.

“Why not? It’ll be warmer that way.”

He thought on it a moment before sighing. “Fine. But you get the side by the wall.”

A little smile crossed his face as he realized the wall was the safer space, and the merc had just let him have it. For his part, Kellogg was gazing off into space, or at a patch of wall. Looking anywhere but the general.

Casey nodded. “Thanks, Conrad.”

The use of his first name threw him for a second, not that it showed on his face. “Don’t mention it, sweetheart.”

\---------

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *Japanese: Hello. Two noodle bowls, please.  
> *Japanese: Thanks, friend.  
> *Japanese: You’re cute when you get confused.
> 
> Lyrics are (c) to Gorillaz. I'm not sponsored and make no profit.


	5. Cherry

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sex ahead! Heed the tags, everyone. 18+ readers only, please. Reader discretion is advised.
> 
> Contains: Vanilla, fingering, loss of virginity, and creampie.

Running water. It was a rare treat in the wasteland. He had only seen a running shower back down in Vault 111, and at the Cabot House. Apparently, the Castle had them, too. Scrubbing off crab guts under the hot spray did wonders for his mood after a hard day killing off more mirelurks and setting up defenses. The showers also sat, conveniently, between the officer quarters and the barracks. All he had to do was wrap a towel around himself and walk.

What he hadn’t expected was for mercenary and field commander to be having a sit-down over a couple beers in the rooms that generals such as him normally had to themselves. The pair fell quiet mid-sentence and stared at him. Casey felt his cheeks flush brightly as he strode past them. Naturally, Preston apologized and excused himself under his breath, leaving and closing the doors behind himself.

“You always strut around in a towel, sweetheart?” Kellogg snickered with a devious smirk.

“No. But I left my clothes in here by accident.” Casey huffed, trying to ignore the merc’s stare, if only to spite him at the lack of attention.

Those eyes didn’t leave him, though. Kellogg’s eyes traced over the slighter man’s form. All slender and narrow with a mile of soft, oddly hairless legs. The old towel barely covered the general’s ass. Enough so that Kellogg was admittedly tempted to go over and tease it upwards a little to give him a better view of those toned, perfect globes. When Casey moved to the bed to grab his backpack off the floor – and tried his damnedest not to bend over – Kellogg saw that bottom was a near perfect heart in shape.

“Should I charge you?” Casey cast a halfhearted leer over his shoulder.

“And here I thought the free show was a raise.” Kellogg feigned a pout.

“You ass.”

He stood, moving closer to him. “I was more focused on yours, honestly.”

Casey gulped audibly, shuddering. His eyelids drooped when he felt warm hands rest on his hips.

“Cat got your tongue?” Kellogg questioned, sliding the garment downwards and tossing it onto the coathooks on the wall.

“Are… Are you genuinely flirting, or just making fun of me? You didn’t strike me as the kind of guy to… swing both ways.”

“I’m complicated.”

“I’ve noticed.” Warmth stirred in the pit of his stomach when he felt rough, slightly chapped lips press to the back of his neck.

“What happens is up to you, sweetheart.” Kellogg reminded him.

“If I wanted you to stop, you’d know.” Casey picked up on the brief, unspoken insecurity. “But… one condition?”

“I’m listening.”

“Don’t… Don’t ask about my scars. Where or how I got them. I don’t care if you touch them. Just don’t ask about them.”

“Anything else?”

“Nope.”

“Good.” Kellogg growled.

Casey found himself whirled around and pushed back onto the bed, the taller man standing between his legs.

A little yelp left him when the mercenary’s mouth pressed to his. Hard and rough, scruff scratching at his skin. The slighter opened to him without hesitation, whether out of excitement or trust – or both. It was no surprise that Kellogg tasted like whiskey and smoke. A sharp, masculine taste compared to the flavor of Nuka-cola that lingered in Casey’s mouth, their tongues dueling with one another until the slighter’s submitted. The merc leaned closer over him, forcing him to tilt his head back.

Casey’s hands moved up to unzip Kellogg’s leather jacket. After, working their way up under the black tank-top beneath it. He felt sculpted abs beneath his fingers, and a trail of wiry hair down the middle that led upwards. The hands on him slid up his sides across the towel still covering him. A quiet little cry broke free of Casey’s throat when the pad of a thumb brushed across his nipple, the bud and its twin perked and sensitive beneath the damp material. Chuckling, Kellogg pulled back and nipped the slighter’s neck.

“Sounds like you enjoyed that, sweetheart.” The merc snickered, brushing his thumb across the sensitive bud again.

“Conrad…” His cheeks flushed, the slighter’s cheeks flushed all the way across, clear up to his ears.

Finally, those rough, somewhat calloused hands pulled the towel open, parting the scratchy, white material to reveal the cream-colored flesh beneath. Casey swallowed hard, turning his head away, one hand coming up to cover his mouth. He gazed up at the taller from the corner of his eye. For a moment, the merc simply watched him. Smooth shoulders and nice hips were dusted a pale rose amidst tawny freckles and faded, colorless scars. Average endowments, cock curved up towards his belly in a little curve. Kellogg leaned back a moment to get a full view of him, pulling his gloves off and tossing them.

A moan left Casey at the assessment, his cock bobbing at being so exposed before the man he had been crushing on since their scrap at Hagen. It garnered a chuckle from the man above him, the mercenary straightening and getting his tank-top off. In those few seconds, Casey licked his lips and reached down for Kellogg’s belt, getting the buckle open with a metallic jingling. When he got the old, rugged canvas pants parted, he saw his partner wasn’t simply taller.

“Y-You… don’t wear underwear…?” Casey bit his lower lip to stifle a groan.

“It’s uncomfortable. And hard to come by.” Kellogg smirked at him, hooking his hands behind the slighter’s knees and drawing him closer.

He gave a surprised squeak when his backside met the rough material covering the merc’s muscular thighs. Or that squeak could’ve been from how the merc’s hot, hard length hotdogged him, feeling rather… large.

“I don’t suppose you have lube?”

“Um…” Casey sat up and snagged his backpack, producing a crystal decanter full of purplish liquid. “Hubflower oil work?"

“Good enough.”

Slowly, he laid back down, watching the merc pour some out onto his fingers before leaning over him, bracing one hand in the crook of the slighter’s shoulder. The oil-slicked hand moved down between his legs, the pad of one finger stroking along his virgin entrance, circling the sensitive ring. 

Casey’s eyes fluttered, a shaking breath leaving him as he rocked his hips. “C’mon…”

“Do you want it to hurt?” Kellogg questioned, smiling as he watched his partner rub against his forearm like a cat.

“N-No…?”

“Then be patient.”

“But I—Ah!” One honey-amber eye squeezed closed as a thick, rough digit pressed into him.

Even with oil, there was friction against his sensitive inner walls. Friction that drew a whimper from him and made his soft, slender thighs shake. One leg stretched out, brushing against Kellogg’s side and, after some hesitation, draping it over the merc’s hip. For his part, Kellogg watched him, categorizing every little look. Burning it into his memory. One-night-stand or not, he planned to remember THIS. A pretty pre-war Vault-dweller splayed out before him like a lewd little buffet. He moved his finger around warily, with care, listening to the slighter’s breath shake.

“Hurt?” Kellogg questioned.

“No. It just… feels weird. Good. But weird.” Casey licked his lips and bit the lower one. “Is… Is it always so slow to start?”

“Just until you get used to it.”

He pursed his lips, quivering. Kellogg lowered himself down to rest on his elbow, and the slighter moaned as rough lips pressed against his own. The general’s hands were soft when they came up to frame the merc’s face, brushing over scruffy, unshaven cheeks. When the merc crooked his finger unwards, Casey nearly bit his partner’s tongue, a clipped cry escaped him, a hot bolt of pleasure pooling low in his belly. His leg tightened on Kellogg’s hip, his hands falling to grip the sheets to either side of his head. As if they had a mind of their own, his hips pitched downwards into the thrusts of his partner’s hand.

“Easy.” Kellogg snickered, nuzzling the slighter’s cheek. “That’s right… just do what feels natural, sweetheart.”

“Oh… O-Oh…!” His voice rose in pitch, coming in strained squeaks. It was followed by a cry as a second girthy digit pressed into him. “Ah!”

A low groan rumbled through the merc’s chest. He rocked his hips against a silken thigh, trails of precum sticking between them.

The stretch burned, but only lightly. A pleasant sort of burn that, for some reason, he wanted more of. He felt his partner’s movements before firmer. Harder. His hands fidgeted where they held the covers, releasing the rumpled material and reaching up to pet their way down his partner’s chest, through the coarse, dark dusting of hair.

“C-Conrad… I… mh… ah…!” Casey gasped raggedly, twitching as he felt that sensitive place within be stroked again, and again.

“That’s right, sweetheart. Sing for me.” Kellogg chuckled, dragging his teeth across the arc of a collarbone.

“Fuck…!” His nails dragged down the merc’s front when he felt a tongue roughly drag across his nipple. “Conrad… I… I-I’m gonna… gonna…!”

He could feel those soft inner walls fluttering round his fingers, the slighter’s cock drooling onto his lower belly. With a smirk, Kellogg clasped his mouth over the slighter’s nipple just as he jabbed his fingers upwards into his sweet-spot. Casey let out a broken cry, back arching as he spilled, pearly white splattering across his skin. The tension in his lower belly had snapped, stealing his breath, bliss crashing over him in waves… and building back up as the merc continued thrusting his digits against THAT spot, grazing his teeth across the slighter’s nipple. Kellogg watched as his partner’s expression twisted between pleasure and anguish, his voice dissolved into little nonsense noises, muscles jumpy.

“Please… Please…!” Casey gasped, clawing at his partner’s shoulders.

“Still want me to fuck you, sweetheart?” Kellogg murmured into the soft flesh of the slighter’s neck.

“Y-Yes!”

The merc gave him a quick kiss as he pulled his hand away and grabbed the oil. Amidst the slick noises of a closed fist over his partner’s length, Casey shuddered, and spread his legs a bit in invitation. A bit of the bluish-purple hubflower oil slid along his pale skin to dribble down the side of the old mattress and drip to the floor. A lesser man could’ve cum right there, at that sight. A sense of possessiveness crept over the merc as he pulled those slender legs up over his hips, his grip near-bruising. There would be marks on those thighs later, but neither of them really cared.

“Please…?” Casey swallowed, uncertain why he was hesitating.

“Mm. I’m not convinced.” Kellogg’s smirk turned positively evil as he ground against the slighter’s needy pucker.

“I… C-Conrad, please… I… I need…” He hiccupped, swiveling his hips as he tried to impale himself on the taller man’s impressive length.

“Ah, ah, ah. Tell me what you need.”

Casey felt his eyes water as he bit his lower lip, panting. “P-Please…! Conrad, fuck me! I-I need it!”

“Well now… I can’t say no to that.” He lowered himself over the slighter, pressing his hips forward.

His voice rose into a high keen at the burning stretch. Two fingers paled in comparison. Different texture, different temperature… The friction alone had him bringing his arms up and wrapping them around Kellogg’s shoulders for security, his eyes squeezed shut.

The hug was unexpected on Kellogg’s part, the merc wincing as if wounded at the silky, vicelike heat engulfing his cock. He gripped the slighter’s thighs hard, pulling Casey against him until his hips were flush to the slighter’s pert backside. Those girlish thighs flexed against Kellogg’s grip, trying to squeeze the taller man’s narrow hips, but in his lust-drunk state, Casey was unable to get very far on that front.

“Ah fuck…” Kellogg growled through grit teeth, drawing his hips back and plunging forward.

The motion drew a yelp from Casey, part pain, part not.

He dipped his hands downwards to grasp the slighter’s backside, tilting Casey’s hips before thrusting a second time.

This time, a desperate cry left him, pain overwhelmed by intense pleasure. From being spread open, from the head of the taller’s cock shoving against that hidden sweet-spot within him. The third thrust had the slighter man sobbing, one hand scratching the back of Kellogg’s neck while the other hand dug into the merc’s thigh. Casey didn’t even care that he wasn’t more than half-hard, mind occupied by the pleasure balling up inside him for the second time.

“Conrad… oh fuck… fuck…!” Casey whined between pants for air, bangs sticking to his sweaty brow. “Oh fuck… oh god…!”

“God’s… got nothin… to do with it.” Kellogg snarled between rough thrusts, all but slamming into the smaller man under him.

The impacts between them started to sting, the rough material of the merc’s pants rubbing his skin nearly raw. Kellogg could feel the slighter’s inner walls fluttering around him. Twitching. From how tense his body was, it was clear Casey was trying to hold back. Key word: Trying.

“What are you waiting for?” Kellogg growled and nipped his partner’s jaw.

“Y-You!” Casey snapped, tossing his head back. “I-I want you to…! I want to feel you…!”

The mere idea of what the slighter was asking for sent a surge of arousal through the merc like a tide. It had him rutting against the smaller man like an animal, filling him forcefully. Casey could do little but hold on for the ride, broken little sobs and hiccups escaping him at the constant pleasure buzzing through him. The metal bedframe was slamming and grating against the stone bricks of the wall, and vaguely, Casey swore he heard the door open for two seconds before closing again.

When strong hands tilted his hips again, Casey didn’t fight it, and he gave a broken scream when his partner’s cock jammed upwards right against his prostate. Hard or not, he spilt a second time, crying on each breath as he broke into a boneless heap beneath his more experienced partner. Feeling that suffocating heat rhythmically clamp down on him proved to be Kellogg’s end. Casey mewed when he felt a wash of sticky heat inside him, painting his inner walls. The heat of arousal simmered down to a warm sense of contentment deep in their very bones, Kellogg bracing on his elbows so he didn’t rest his full weight on him.

“Holy shit…” Casey whimpered, cheeks dark, eyes barely open, little tremors running through his body.

“Good?” Kellogg snickered. “I’m out of practice.”

“You know it was ‘good.’ Ass.”

There came a chuckle, and a pause. “Anything hurt?”

“No. Not much, anyways.” He smiled tiredly as a rough mouth kissed along his neck. “Big bad merc likes to cuddle?”

“Shut up. Or I’ll let you sleep on the wet spot.”

“Mm. Your secret’s safe with me.” Casey turned his head, nuzzling the taller man’s cheek. “Can we share the couch?”

“Fine by me. Just… gimme a minute and I’ll help you get cleaned up.”

\---------


	6. Chitchat

It wasn’t uncommon for Casey to wake up just around dawn. Right as the sun began to peek over the sky. Kellogg looked like he was still asleep, but Casey new better. Getting out of the now shared bed without waking the merc up was impossible, just like going back to sleep. Mind stormy as it was, he slid out from under a muscled arm and strode as quietly as he could from the bedroom, moving outside. Sanctuary was still quiet, not many people out yet.

He made his way to the treehouse watchtower that had been built in the town’s roundabout, around the now petrified tree. A couple people were up there, sitting in the watchtower chairs, the turrets puttering softly where they stood vigilant. The guards gave him quiet murmurs of “Good morning.” as he passed on his way up. There, he stood and leaned on the sturdy wooden railing, gazing out across his town. Some minutes later, when Casey heard someone coming up the stairs to the main overlook, he wasn’t surprised to see just who it was.

“Morning.” Casey sighed, glancing the mercenary’s way.

“Trouble sleeping?” Kellogg replied, sitting in the chair beside him. 

“It happens a lot. … I didn’t want to wake you up. Sorry.”

“Out here, you learn pretty quick to be a light sleeper.”

“Yeah.” He sighed, rubbing his eye briefly. “Having someone around helps. You don’t have to talk, if you don’t want. It’s just… the presence helps.”

He let out a hum, stretching his legs out, crossing his ankles.

“Can I ask you something…?”

“Sure.”

“Is Shaun in the Institute?”

There came a lengthy pause between them, a chilled breeze blowing by. “Yeah. He is. Not much of a baby, anymore.”

“I figured. I did the math. Under ice for sixty years after being taken from 111 and ten years of god-knows-what.” Casey’s expression was blank, gaze distant.

“Did you also know he’s the Director?”

“No. But I shouldn’t be surprised. The way an infant was put on a pedestal while I was treated like sentient garbage before they split us up…”

“I assume it’s because you were a smart kid and asked questions. A baby can be taught what to think. That stops at a certain age. Guess that age for the Institute is ten.”

Casey frowned, looking down at his hands. “What’s he like?”

“You know I don’t sugar-coat things, kid.” Kellogg warned.

“I know.” He murmured. “I didn’t ask you to.”

Another pause came. “Smart. Cold. Clinical. Complete lack of boundaries or morals. That’s the way the entire Institute is. Everything is disposable once it isn’t useful… all wastelanders are unfit to live, much less have children… Pretty much like the Brotherhood. Only pettier.”

“Oh. Joy.” He frowned, flicking a nonexistent pebble off the railing. “Makes me glad I didn’t decide to look for him. At least he’s happy… off destroying what’s left of the world.”

Things went quiet on his end. Casey gazed over at him, shifting his weight from foot to foot and ignoring how the mercenary’s gaze followed his hips briefly.

“How about we play a game?”

“I don’t play games, kid.”

“Humor me? … A questions game. I ask you, you answer, then ask me, and I answer. And we each get three passes.”

This made the merc arch a brow, gaze searching him. “Alright. You go first.”

“Alright.” Casey pursed his lips for a second, and gazed back out over the town. “What’s your favorite part of the Commonwealth?”

“Well, aren’t you just full of surprises. … The sky. At night. Out in the middle of nowhere, where there aren’t any fires or electric lights.”

He mustered a smile at this.

“What’s your favorite town? Out of all the ones you’ve built up.”

“The one we’re in right now. 200 years old. Dust, rust, and a derelict bridge and all. It’s… home. Familiar. Safe. I like it here, no matter how much it’s changed. … Do you like it here?”

“The peremeter’s more open than I would like.” Kellogg admitted, peering over his shoulder and the railing beside him. “Could do with a few more posts by the river. Maybe some hidden watch-posts in the brush as an early alert system.”

“That… sounds like an awesome idea, actually.” Casey straightened, now looking for good spots for such places.

“What was your first thought when you found me at Ft. Hagen?”

“I… hoped you would have answers for me. That I could meet the guy who pulled me out of the freezer. The first freezer. I didn’t really know what to expect.” He shrugged, wringing his hands. “What did you think about me?”

“That you’d be pissed. Out for revenge. Or some naïve little kid tryin to play superhero like in what few comics I’ve read. After we spent almost fifteen minutes beating each other’s asses, I was a little impressed.”

Casey let out a breathy laugh.

“Would you have killed me, if that Courser hadn’t showed up?”

“No. Honestly…” He sighed, pouting. “I was ready to make a run for it. If you shot me in the back, so be it. From the stories I’ve heard, I kinda doubted you would do that. … Would you have killed me?”

“Don’t know. Most of the time, I kill when I need to.” Kellogg confessed. “You put up more of a fight than I thought you would. … If you have to kill Shaun if and when you take down the Institute, will you?”

“I certainly plan to. If I believe you, he’s the director. Meaning he’s in charge. Responsible for so many atrocities and refusing to stop them.”

There came a longer pause between them before Kellogg moved to stand next to him. “What was this town like, way back when?”

Something in Casey’s expression lit up in the form of a light smile, the slighter not even caring that it was technically HIS turn to ask. He went on to explain the workshop across from his own house had belonged to the Ables. That Mrs. Able would always plant a huge garden of flowers, especially different colors of roses. He told Kellogg about the footbridge over the creek, and how in summer, he and the other kids around town was go play in the water. How he had taught himself how to fish with some old line and tackle left by one of the neighbors. That Mrs. Rosa’s son had been a dick until his dad died in a hunting accident and they started restoring an old truck together. He even told the merc about how he would save up what change he could find to buy ice cream from the Red Rocket station in summer. The entire time, Kellogg simply listened.

“It was… nice. Here, at least.” Casey finally sighed, and pouted. “School was hell. Anyplace in public was.”

“Because of the whole ‘Japanese’ thing?”

“And the war. The propaganda. The hatred! It was TOXIC.” Casey sighed heavily. “I guess when the Brotherhood reminded me of that, I just… snapped.”

“That was you snapping?” Kellogg scoffed almost playfully. 

“Maybe. Maybe not. I’ve never been so pissed I just haul off and explode.” He shrugged, hands on the railing. “Did I make the right call, leaving the Brotherhood?”

“Oi. Rule one of bein a successful merc: Don’t second-guess yourself.”

“Now you’re teachin me how to be a mercenary?” Casey looked over at him, one brow arched.

Kellogg smirked. That same damned cocky smirk from Hagen. “Someone has to.”

A quiet little giggle bubbled up in his throat, the slighter man nodded, trying and failing to suppress the grin on his face.

\---------

When Kellogg first awoke the morning after, he wasn’t quite certain what woke him up. It wasn’t Casey, this time, the slighter curled up against his side, their legs tangled and one of the slighter’s arms over the merc’s chest. Still sound asleep, head pillowed on the merc’s shoulder. The sound of footfalls drew his attention. His hand was halfway to where his pistol rested on the nightstand before he realized it was just the morning patrol, making their rounds.

Nope. Just one of those mornings where he woke up for no reason.

“Everything okay…?” Casey murmured, not bothering to open his eyes.

“Yeah.” Kellogg replied, voice quiet. Pensive.

“Danse is probably doin rounds in the non-AI power armor I found. It’s really clunky.”

“Mm.” He pushed the slighter’s bangs aside. “Comfortable?”

“Very. If my pillow would stop talking.”

The merc snickered. Casey smiled when he felt that rough, familiar mouth kiss his brow. He could’ve made a joke. But he knew that it wouldn’t be received well. He let it lay, enjoying the comfy silence and the warmth.

“You should try to go back to sleep. It’s still early. And we have to head to the Slog, today.”

“Ugh.”

“Don’t be so dramatic.”

“It rained yesterday.” Kellogg reminded him. “You know it’ll be like walkin through glue for the next week.”

“Again. Don’t be so dramatic.” Casey sat up and stretched before patting the merc’s thigh. “I’ll make tea. And it’s your turn to cook.”

“Ten more minutes.”

Rather than object or laugh it off, Casey gazed at him, and laid back down, snuggling up against the merc’s side.

The pair ended up falling back asleep for nearly three more hours.

\---------


End file.
